What labels do you give the people who visit your business? The ones who hand you money in exchange for products or services? 
In the fast-food industry’s parlance, we are grazers. More like the cattle most of them are serving us on mass-produced buns than like individuals for whom they should show caring and affection.
I like spending Friday mornings writing about good customer service experiences whenever possible, and I was recently reminded of a shopping experience my parents had when dealing with Cirmes Tonsorial Parlor.
I’ve mentioned before that I’m a straight razor shaver, and that I’m a bit of a nut when it comes to my morning shaving routine. Honestly, my sink in the bathroom has more bottles of stuff on it than my wife’s does.
When I heard about Cirmes, the hands-on approach to crafting everything really appealed to me and I said as much to my folks. They pried out of me through some super-secret parental techniques (handing me a newspaper article and a pen) which scents I was most likely to enjoy and purchased 3 different aftershaves for me for my birthday (Sapera, Absinthe, and my absolute favorite, Monsieur Jameson).
So you’ve gone out and convinced a customer that you’re the agile development team for the job. You’ve nailed down some expectations and codified it all in a neat little contract with a Statement of Work which spells out everything you’re going to be expected to do.
Awesome!
There’s just one little thing… A month or two into the project, your customer, with whom you’re very engaged and meeting on a regular basis, has realized that their business has changed a bit, so they need to alter some of the work they need you to do. They need you to be…agile!
The customer is always right. The customer is king. The customer comes first. We wouldn’t be here without the customer. The customer is our front line warrior. Our business is designed around the customer’s needs. We listen to our customers.
I was once in a restaurant and had the joyous experience of watching as first the waiter, then the dining room manager, then the general manager, and finally someone I could only assume was the owner tried to appease a disgruntled customer. The lettuce was wilty. The wine was off. The beer lines hadn’t been cleaned after the last keg change. The glasses weren’t properly washed.
You’re an airline. Two passengers are standing in line at your customer service counter. Both have middle seats for an almost-full cross-country flight. One paid full price for his tickets, the other went through an online bidding service, paid a fraction of the cost, and didn’t even know he was going to be getting your airline.
You have one aisle seat left. Both these passengers are in middle seats. You can move one of them to an aisle, making him very happy indeed. The other will remain where he was, none the wiser.
Who gets the seat?
Don’t answer yet.
Some years ago, I worked for a company that developed in- and out-bound call center management software for sales and customer service organizations. Yes, we made those software systems that enabled companies to call you at dinner time and pester you with offers. Sorry about that. We also worked with a number of churches and organizations that only had inbound operations, or only took customer service calls, so I hope that helped balance things out.
Probably not.
Every time I eat at a Chick-Fil-A restaurant, I’m struck by how they’re able to deliver such amazing customer service. Especially given that every other fast food chain, drawing from the same talent pool of mainly teenage kids, fails so miserably to create a customer experience anywhere close with any consistency.
What is it about their customer service that sets them apart? What can we all, as leaders who interact with customers learn from a number four combo delivered with a smile?
I just took my family to King’s Dominion amusement park for the day. While we expected to have fun on the rides, what caught me off guard were the number of times park staff members went out of their way to not just answer questions but go the extra mile to provide genuine assistance. This was unexpectedly great customer service.
When I was 13, I started my first job delivering newspapers after school for the Des Moines Tribune. I still recall how my father sat me down at the kitchen table and told me a few things I’d be doing before I ever delivered my first newspaper. He also outlined for me some guidelines for how I was to approach this job.
Bret lives in Virginia with his wife, two wonderful children, and two cats who allow him to come home each evening. When not developing software to make the world a better place or writing about entrepreneurship, leadership and service, he plays the sax and sometimes turns wood into sawdust. He is an unabashed fan of the Iowa State Cyclones.
